


Rosy Maple Moths Are Very Punk Rock

by tattadpole



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: M/M, actor chae, and kind of getting it on, as well as getting off on bickering, despising each other, explicit making out, profanities, solo singer yoo kihyun, some mush, vague handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-25 02:38:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12026367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattadpole/pseuds/tattadpole
Summary: Half a year later Kihyun watched on-screen Hyungwon cross his ankles and lean back on a leather sofa, about to do a magazine photoshoot with him, on a show dedicated to flourishing friendships (term used very loosely) between young gorgeous men of the entertainment industry the two of them filmed together, and all he could think about was how perfectly punchable Hyungwon’s face was.





	Rosy Maple Moths Are Very Punk Rock

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a present with a specific set of boxes to be ticked in mind, but in case someone else ends up enjoying it, here it is in full.

 

 

Kihyun had a bright pink mess on his head from hair products applied earlier in the day, a plateful of chicken within easy reach, a laptop where it was intended (in his lap), and an hour of free time before sleep — first time this week. His brain had been tripping over itself in exhaustion-induced emergency mode all day; preparing for his next album release was shaping up to be even more taxing than the first time around, but complaining was the last thing on his mind when he finally had a say in the process and the only ballad on his tracklist had “rock” preceding it in the description.

 

Creative control or not, it took its toll, and he was in dire need of some mindless entertainment for passive consumption before shutting down for the night. New episodes of _Celebrity Bromance_ starring his own self were out; he didn’t see any of it so far — couldn’t be bothered — but the latest instalment featured his brand new hair, so he decided checking out how it looked like on a screen would serve as the best use of his evening.

 

He was greeted by a pair of judgemental giant eyes frying circuits in his laptop with their sheer bitchy quality. The camera zoomed out to reveal a matching pair of equally judgemental eyebrows, honey-gold strands of hair fanned out around a forehead, a sloped nose with its tip descending to the philtrum in a bow Kihyun suspected had been delineated with a compass, and absurdly huge lips concluding Chae Hyungwon’s downright ridiculous visage.

 

Kihyun knew it by heart. He could recall in vivid detail how the tubercle of his upper lip looked like pursed on the rare occasions he managed to get under Hyungwon's skin enough for it to show; how it blissfully glided down a straw of the bitter americano he vacuumed daily in hectolitres, and became twice as pronounced when he was futilely trying to keep in a smile. Kihyun had no use of this knowledge, and the fact it took up his mental space at all was a nuisance, to say the least.

 

It all began because of three coinciding factors.

 

One, they were both under Interstellar, an entertainment company mostly concerned with managing actors and slowly dipping its fingers into the music industry, housing a few vocalists on the side.

 

Two, Kihyun's rendition of a rock classic on _Masked Singer_ put his newest soundtrack song on charts and spurred a series of posts on one hand gushing over the way he fidgeted with necklaces (endearingly) and how his nose wrinkled at the root when he really got into singing (irresistibly), on the other digging up past photos of him from a party featuring smoking, drinking, girls, and leather jackets, accidentally building him a bad-boy rep, something Chae Hyungwon found endlessly hilarious.

 

_Fucker_. His own past was shrouded in perfect mystery.

 

Three, Chae Hyungwon graduated from dramas to his first feature length movie and received stellar (if surprised) reviews marvelling at his ability to portray a blood-curdling trigger-happy son of a mafia boss with a penchant for black humour after being remembered mostly for his comedy relief stunt in the newest _Reply_ series — so effective and prolific the faces he made were still in the mainstream internet circulation.

 

Interstellar was good at striking while the iron was hot (and sensing money), so the resident punk soundtrack soloist and the wildcard rookie actor got sent to the same show as company representatives to compete for a meaningless prize while raking in what truly mattered — screen time. Which they did in spades. Their effortless repartee masterfully toeing the line between cruel and playful coupled with the never-ending game of one-upmanship pushing the boundaries of sane behaviour won them tears of hilarity from the guests and MCs alike, audience’s devotion, and more paid gigs — as a duo.

 

The thing was, they could hardly stand each other.

 

*

 

Half a year later Kihyun watched on-screen Hyungwon cross his ankles and lean back on a leather sofa, about to do a magazine photoshoot _with him_ , on a show dedicated to flourishing friendships (term used very loosely) between young gorgeous men of the entertainment industry the two of them filmed _together_ , and all he could think about was how perfectly punchable Hyungwon’s face was.

 

He was an anomaly among the good-looking part of the population and an insult to the concept of harmonious beauty, lacking the basic decency to be comprised of features naturally befitting the human frame — the puzzle pieces making him up were either too big, too elongated, or too odd. And yet they fit. The nerve of them.

 

Kihyun rubbed the knuckle of his thumb over his lower lip absentmindedly. In all honesty, only half of all he could think about was how perfectly punchable Hyungwon’s face was, but he didn’t feel like addressing the other half.

 

Ever.

 

Said face in its bitchy iteration lasted only for the dramatic entrance, soon replaced by an easy smirk and a raised eyebrow. “How do I look?”

 

The question was strictly rhetorical with the only people around being the conventionally mute filming crew, but Hyungwon acted like he could see the camera lens swooning over his bundle of long limbs draped in a slim fitted (for once) ensemble of a button-down and pants, all black except for the stark white Doc Martens oxfords. “The concept for today’s shoot is a bloodbath, so I’d say killer looks are befitting.” Kihyun’s mouth curved with second-hand embarrassment mixed with satisfaction — Hyungwon usually refrained from tacky lines in his presence, so being reminded he had it in himself to play cheesy was a delight. The offender must have felt so too, flashing a little embarrassed smile before continuing, “But His Midgesty got here late, so I’m not vouching for him.”

 

_That_ term of endearment was new. Kihyun’s mouth gaped wide, absolutely scandalised, mind whirring with prospective verbal revenge, as his screen replica entered the frame and he finally got to evaluate the quality of his dyejob in a pixelated form.

 

It looked very, _very_ pink.

 

His clothes matched Hyungwon’s, but where the other’s open collar revealed glimpses of clavicles, Kihyun’s was neatly buttoned up and standing; the sleeves of his shirt looked like they were rolled up with the help of a ruler, and the laces of his bright red heavy shoes reached up past his ankles.

 

He remembered what Hyungwon had said next, but failed to register his grin and the meticulous way he took the sight of him in.

 

“You look like a soft punk strawberry.”

 

Screen Kihyun busied himself with fussing over his (only nearly) perfectly folded cuffs, in a mood too good to snap. “You _wish_ you could pull this off.”

 

“I could never,” he admitted with sincerity. “Strawberries tend to be tiny.”

 

Kihyun moved to the mirror, inspecting the elaborately artful mess descending in wisps over his forehead. “So do amphibians, yet here you are, more than a metre long.”

 

And because his back was now turned to Hyungwon, he didn’t see the (kind of, almost appreciative) scrutiny it underwent. All of it.

 

Hyungwon tsked in response, but his expression stayed lax, eyes gliding along Kihyun’s waist. “You always fall back on frogs when you don’t have a good comeback. Step up your game. I could never understand the comparison anyway.”

 

“It’s the jaw. Or rather the lack of it. That and the vacant, bulging out eyeballs.”

 

Said eyeballs’ visual field got narrowed down minutely and Kihyun smirked in tiny victory. They were called on set and the scene changed, but in reality he had hissed out one more thing before disappearing behind the doors — either too indistinct or too vulgar for broadcast.

 

_And it’s peach pink, not strawberry, you colour-blind dick._

 

He remembered the photo shoot well. His favourite shot had both of them subtly sprayed with blood (visible mostly on Hyungwon’s white shoes and Kihyun’s hands), looking straight at the camera, each blowing bubble gum and discreetly pointing a needle at the other. The composition was tarot-card-worthy. It was the most fun he had ever had posing to pictures — he got to put a knife (fake) to Hyungwon’s throat and pull at his hair (genuinely). The photographer lady took “bloodbath” to heart.

 

But he wasn’t the only one enjoying himself — Hyungwon seemed delighted by the prospect of putting him in a headlock next, the other hand fisting his hair, revengeful, baring his throat in the process. Off-screen Kihyun froze, taken by surprise by the overall image, something crawling under his skin at the intensity (indecency) of it. But on-screen Kihyun was seething — normally he wouldn’t have any problems wrestling himself out of the grip of the flimsy muscle tissue pressing to his throat, his back — but a gig was a gig. The photographer commanded the believability of the contempt radiating off of him in waves and Kihyun smiled sweetly. “Maybe _I_ should be the one playing serial killers.”

 

Hyungwon snorted right into his ear. Kihyun was a terrible actor. Any contempt visible was of the 100% authentic brand.

 

He didn’t remember much from their meal afterwards, too tired past 1 am to have all of his wits about him, giving half of them time off — and letting his mouth run loose with the most inane shit as a result.

 

“Look, it’s the perfect cover,” he explained, pointing chopsticks accusatorily at Hyungwon, “No one would suspect you in the long run. First they’d go, _of course_ you’re not a killer, what with being a celebrity twenty-four-seven in the public’s eye; you only play murderers for a living and make all of these disgustingly cute faces. Then there’s the moment of doubt in between; what if you’re playing psychos so well _because_ you’re one of them? And the final stage of over-thinking; these things never happen in real life, it’s just a conspiracy theory cooked up by a sad twelve-year-old basement-dweller who watched too many movies and hates you because of all of these disgustingly cute faces you make, no way it would pan out. See?”

 

“You just called me cute. Twice.”

 

“Disgustingly cute, don’t twist my words around.”

 

“I’ll take it.”

 

“You’re such a weirdo.”

 

“They’d have a point, how would I go around slitting throats without being recognised?”

 

“You have an alter ego, a supervillain costume, the whole shtick. But without the cape and pants over tights with all that latex nonsense, because it’s terribly impractical—”

 

“You’re speaking from experience, of course.”

 

“—So instead,” he made a dramatic pause, spreading his arms wide, “You have mastered the art of looking like a hobo.”

 

Kihyun in front of the screen was dead sure Hyungwon’s over-exaggerated stretch of lips ending with downturned unimpressed corners was already copiously screen-grabbed and making rounds. Kihyun on the screen started waving his pretend batons around to the rhythm of his narration, now immersed in it for good.

 

“We live in the sad reality where no one pays attention to the homeless — and the hipsters, but I wouldn’t call that sad — and we all know your debatably good looks are all about styling—”

 

“Your grasp on reality is what’s truly sad.”

 

“—So you dirty yourself up, put on a wig, a 10-year-old perm, draw pimples on your prosthetic nose, wear a moustache, a twirly one, with a piece of egg hanging off of it, put on your normal clothes cause they’re ten sizes too big anyway, but with a fake beer tummy on; you twist your face around with your alien face muscles, hunch over, and go out into the night to take lives for the thrill of it.”

 

The corners of Hyungwon’s mouth were twitching.

 

“You target people with bad eyesight and shoot their glasses off with a slingshot.” Kihyun was on a roll. “Your preferred close range weapon is a broken bottle of your favourite sugary drink meant for little children. They nickname you Juicy.”

 

Hyungwon had a very annoying way of expressing his amusement when laughing wasn’t enough — he hit whomever was in reach. Kihyun left the restaurant with minor bruising.

 

They decided to milk the flow while it was pouring, so their last stop of the night was by Kihyun’s tiny studio. Hyungwon, insufferably, bought him a strawberry milkshake on the way. Kihyun retaliated with a blood-red juice bag without batting an eyelash. They sank into studio chairs, sipping peacefully and exchanging drowsy remarks. Kihyun played one of the songs he was still working on at the time, and although the music got muted for the broadcast, the overlay put in its place was equally interesting — a bit from Hyungwon’s interview conducted before the filming. Kihyun choked on his saliva, because there was Chae Hyungwon, admitting _on camera_ he had Kihyun’s songs _on his playlist_ , giving out serious praises and so many details it became clear he listened to his voice often enough to know what he was talking about.

 

But of course, what wouldn’t they do for the viewership and keeping the name of the show relevant.

 

Was what Kihyun told himself very sternly, shoving too much food in his mouth at once. The editing showed Hyungwon soaking up every note with a clear gaze, swaying his head to the rhythm despite being half-asleep and immobile mere minutes earlier, and the fact it worked its way under Kihyun’s skin angered him to no end. He had been right there! And hadn’t noticed anything of the sort! Hyungwon definitely wasn’t—

 

Hyungwon was saying “it sounds very dream-like”, something Kihyun had _no_ recollection of. Either he had been drop-dead exhausted, or the sound engineers were shameless enough to fabricate a whole sentence. Judging by the on-screen Kihyun’s faraway stare, the former option was well within the realm of probability. Late hours and keeping his guard up for too long tended to overtax his mental barriers, getting him into odd headspace pockets that existed only under the influence or around sunrise (and the right people). As far as he was concerned they were very much unauthorised and had no right to encroach on his consciousness once they closed up.

 

Kihyun didn’t notice the screen turning black.

 

Now only one-third of all he could think about was how punchable Hyungwon’s face was.

 

The other third was helplessly devoted to reminiscing how Hyungwon’s lower lip looked like when he bit it down, hard, with a moan rippling from behind it, as he came all over Kihyun’s hand.

 

The last third concerned itself deeply with a swarm of— of _fucking moths_ , he thought, _flapping around_ in his _fucking stomach_.

 

_Fuck me._

 

*

 

That they couldn't stand each other didn't mean they couldn't enjoy themselves. It was purely egotistical on their parts. Kihyun had it all figured out.

 

Having someone challenge him was refreshing, he reasoned. Keeping him on his toes, making things interesting. Someone fluent in dismantling bullshit, who’d never care enough to lie for the sake of niceties or protecting his feelings, but would keep a secret as a result of the mutual blackmail material deadlock they were stuck in; someone painfully familiar with the workings of his industry, its little nightmares, and the goals pursued with the same quiet determination.

 

It didn’t take long before they started going out to eat, to drink when schedules allowed, first after shared gigs, then in the rare cases of boredom coinciding with free time when no one was around to entertain them. Before they knew it their messaging apps started blowing up between tightly packed hair salon visits and radio shows, because the banter game was on, and both of them had to have the last word.

 

And then one breezy summer day Kihyun found himself in Hyungwon’s lap, breathing heavily to the rhythm of Hyungwon’s hand sliding between his legs.

 

 

It sounded absurd. Impossible. But everything leading up to it made perfect sense, one minute at a time.

 

They were both high off paychecks and drunk enough for the pleasant buzz filling their veins to make them feel invincible. The night was young, Hyungwon’s place was closer, and after a day filled with plastered smiles all they craved was a profanity-friendly and pretence-free space to celebrate.

 

Kihyun tricked him into actually using his PS4 and got rewarded with an hour of kicking Hyungwon’s ass before his graceful host threw the controller out of his hand and told him to get out.

 

So Kihyun only made himself more comfortable, fingers intertwining behind his head. “Giving up so soon?”

 

“I’m bored.” He stood up, stretched, then started pacing around, weirdly restless.

 

“Losing all the time _would_ get boring, I suppose.”

 

“As if you’ve ever won a game of chess with me.”

 

“You want a rematch?”

 

“Not particularly. Walking all over you gets boring too, eventually.”

 

“Then what do you want to do?”

 

“Honestly? Jerk off.”

 

Kihyun lost control over his face. Judging by Hyungwon’s shit-eating grin, it must have been a sight. “I did tell you to get out, I’m serious.”

 

Hyungwon was _possibly bi, but mostly into humans with dicks and a ball or two_. Kihyun knew about it, because Hyungwon valued his privacy as much as the truth and basic human decency, which meant spending leisure time exclusively with people who wouldn’t have a problem with it.

 

And Kihyun didn’t. Have a problem with it. It just took him ten minutes to stop blushing and stutter out he didn’t care what gets Hyungwon hard, without quite meeting his assessing gaze. Hyungwon had a field month with it.

 

Balls had never been Kihyun’s thing, but who was he to deny others the dubious pleasure of communing with them?

 

This time he collected himself almost immediately. “What, no one wants your bony ass that you have to resort to your hand?”

 

Hyungwon shrugged. “My hands are incredibly talented, both of them,” he enunciated “incredibly” like it was molten gold slipping past his lips, “And I don’t care much for the mess that comes with uncertain one-night-stands right now.”

 

Kihyun knew picking up girls discreetly was a logistic nightmare. Picking up boys must have been even more of an ordeal considering the added risk. He felt a pang of sympathy but didn’t let it out. “Excuses.” Hyungwon’s couch, along with Kihyun’s tipsy mind, were made of wonders. He really didn’t want to leave just yet. “They won’t save your sad, sad sex life.”

 

“My sex life is quite cheerful. Merry. Gay, even.” The deadpan Kihyun mustered in response was commendable. “And I have a backlog of innovative orgies waiting for me, so, seriously, if you’d just—”

 

Kihyun couldn’t help himself. “Innovative?”

 

Hyungwon paused, seizing him up, considering. “It might be too much for your faint little vanilla heart.”

 

“Try me.”

 

It wasn’t too much. It was just enough to make him swallow too loudly and shift on the couch way too obviously, heart getting into staccato, limbs becoming gauche, taking up too much space in a way he felt was painfully awkward. He did his best to focus on the noises coming from a girl with amazing legs, tied to a bedpost with two guys, ergo four hands, considerably contributing to her noise-making; he really did. They were horrible teases, Kihyun concluded. But first of all, there was _a_ _lot_ going on in the frame in every possible combination; second of all, Hyungwon was right beside him and Kihyun had never felt someone’s presence so acutely without actually looking.

 

He lasted maybe a minute more, then chanced a glance.

 

Hyungwon’s lowered eyelids looked downright filthy, pupils trained evenly on the screen, the shape of his lips parted just the tiniest bit striking against the white wall, scandalously long fingers playing with the rim of his (now empty) bottle, lines of body loose and for all appearances as relaxed as if they were watching a weather forecast instead of seven people making it their top priority to give each other the most intense orgasms humankind was capable of _and_ look good while doing it.

 

Someone moaned as if their life depended on it.

 

Kihyun forgot to look back, so when Hyungwon’s pupils zipped around, catching him red-handed, he had no choice but to own it.

 

“My faint little vanilla heart isn’t particularly bothered.”

 

Hyungwon tilted his head. A guy’s voice started chanting a plea for more from the speakers.

 

“I don’t know, parts of you look bothered enough.” Kihyun realised his cheeks weren’t exactly void of colour, but that wasn’t what Hyungwon meant when he nodded his chin in the general area of his jeans’ zipper — without actually looking at it. How he knew, Kihyun had no idea. “But I admit I expected you to clutch your pearls and scream bloody murder when they pulled out butt plugs.”

 

“We live in the twenty-first century and I’m familiar with the internet, it’d take something bigger than a butt plug to make me scream.”

 

Oh _shit_. Oh bloody fucking _no_ , that _wasn’t_ what he meant, that was _not—_

 

But that was exactly what rendered Hyungwon completely speechless for the first time since they had met.

 

Neither knew what to do, so they froze as they were, wide eyes locked.

 

Then a switch flipped somewhere in the circuits surrounding them, and they found themselves back on familiar ground; the game was on, the question: who would be the first to break eye contact to the accompaniment of _Oh, you like it, don’t you? Writhing under me like that, begging for it, looking this wrecked already, fuck, tell me you like it, tell me how bad you want it—_

 

Kihyun’s eyes were sparkling with mirth when he opened his mouth. “How bad _ly_.” Hyungwon’s turned into two crescents from the suppressed eruption of giggles filling up his cheeks.

 

The astounding thing was, their pants were the only uncomfortable bit of the situation. And because Kihyun’s mind was still buzzing, brave and unreserved for the night, he ended up with the resolute conclusion to _oh, fuck it_.

 

“I don’t know about you, but I’d love to jerk off right about now.”

 

“Whoa,” his current level of straightforwardness made Hyungwon’s eyebrows drift off to outer space, propelled by wonder. “You brought it on yourself, Kihyun.”

 

He chose his next words carefully. “I won’t be bothered if you won’t be bothered.”

 

He didn’t get it quite right — Hyungwon’s eyes narrowed, doubtful. “Is it some kind of a bro thing? Jerking off in company? Bonding over boners?”

 

Breathe in. “I have no idea, but it’d be really convenient at the moment.” Breathe out.

 

A beat passed and Hyungwon shrugged the tension off, lines around his eyes smoothing out to let in glimpses of mischievousness. “This is going to be interesting.”

 

Turned out once you put the option on the table, masturbating in company wasn’t _that_ weird. Not awkward enough to be a turn-off or lend itself to panic, but still illicit and thrilling in the right load to be heady. Between all of the sounds, virtual and otherwise, the visual stimulation right in front of him, and the palpable presence of another man — of _Hyungwon —_ making himself feel good right next to him, Kihyun felt completely overwhelmed.

 

It wasn’t long before the side stimuli began overpowering the ones ahead of him, to his utter surprise.

 

And then he noticed the glass cupboard.

 

It had always been there, hosting really weird, mostly black china sets with unsettling designs, but Kihyun never paid attention to the fact that facing the way it did with a dark panel as the background, its glass doors reflected a good part of the couch illuminated by the overhead lights.

 

A good part of the couch with Hyungwon on it, everything but one of his legs on the dim display clear enough to show his neck bared by head tilted back a bit over the backrest, and the colour of his underwear (red) pulled down over his hips.

 

Now Kihyun was paying attention. And he couldn’t help but notice Hyungwon’s pace was spellbindingly slow.

 

“Enjoying the view?”

 

_Fuck._ Caught staring twice in compromising circumstances within the span of an hour, quite a record.

 

But the reflection went both ways and two could play at that game. “I could ask you the same thing. Your cupboard is evil.” Kihyun closed his eyes for a second, mortified and incredibly turned on, but didn’t let it bleed through to his voice. “Your wonder-hands not up to the task today? They barely move.”

 

“I like to take my time.”

 

He realised what he wanted. He didn’t understand where it came from. “You sure you don’t need another one?”

 

Hyungwon groaned, actually sounding annoyed. “Are you, like, having a belated epiphany and entering your experimental phase all of a sudden?”

 

Kihyun found the situation way past any semblance of normalcy. It made him strangely calm. It made him care less. “I think I’m mostly getting off on bickering.”

 

“You would.”

 

“Like you wouldn’t.”

 

“I got the impression you weren’t into balls though.”

 

A pause.

 

“I— I don’t really know what I am.”

 

Another pause.

 

“Tell me about it.”

 

“Right now?”

 

“Tell me about it, abridged version.”

 

It was Kihyun’s turn to groan, but he spat out in one breath, “I only had experience with girls and a very vague wet dream of being held down by someone with a dick that freaked me out so badly I pretended it never happened.”

 

“That doesn’t sound very healthy.”

 

“I think I got over it, but never had the chance to test it out.”

 

Hyungwon’s hand froze. “Is that an invitation?”

 

Breathe in. “Is that weird?” Breathe out.

 

“Probably,” Hyungwon’s voice was getting noticeably lower, “But I won’t care if you won’t. Now do you want to test my hands out or not, cause the offer stands for three more seconds?”

 

“Three? You last shorter than I thought—”

 

“-two-”

 

Kihyun’s mind caught up with a halt. “YES.”

 

“What?”

 

“Yes. I want. Your hands.” He pushed the part of his brain clutching its pearls and screaming bloody murder out of the dome of his skull. It made things easier. And he was punk rock like that.

 

Hyungwon’s voice had never dipped so low before. “Come here.”

 

He sat Kihyun between his slightly bended legs, back pressed to chest, head tilted back to lie in the crook of his shoulder, with a clear view of the video, and behind it, in the background, the evil glass doors.

 

“Relax,” Kihyun heard in his ear, murmured, “It’s just a handjob, you should be well-acquainted with them.”

 

“How are you this coherent and talkative?”

 

“You’re keeping up with it rather well.”

 

“Is that a _compliment_?”

 

But instead of answering, Hyungwon reached around to touch him, splaying slim hands under his shirt, over his stomach, his waist, hips, the creases between his thighs and groin, closing in, until Kihyun was scrunching his eyes shut, breath hitching, every single muscle doing the opposite of relaxing, and after what felt like millennia Hyungwon’s fingers brushed his cock, Hyungwon’s mouth brushed his neck, and he entered another plane of existence.

 

Another plane of existence filled with a pair of _incredibly_ talented hands.

 

It didn’t take long for Kihyun to come, sinking his nails into Hyungwon’s thighs, his own trembling visibly; or to weakly turn around in his lap to return the favour, murmuring something about how Hyungwon’s hands weren’t the only skilled ones around.

 

Hyungwon came raking his fingers through Kihyun’s still black hair with a noise so disarming Kihyun wanted to kiss it out of him.

 

But didn’t.

 

They called it a draw, too tired to argue, double-checked neither of them was freaking out, Kihyun sewed the memory pocket of the evening shut, and they went back to getting on each other’s nerves.

 

*

 

Now everything was ruined, because Kihyun decided to watch Hyungwon watch him and _that_ for whatever reason did freak him out.

 

He dreaded the next time he’d see him.

 

It happened in the cafe in their company’s building three days later. The first impulse to overcome him at the sight of Hyungwon sauntering over to his table in a fitted black t-shirt and brand new converse sneakers was to nibble at his earlobe and feed him cherries, not necessarily in that order.

 

His throat constricted from forcefully stifled want. The moths in his stomach were stirring up a tornado.

 

He was sick. He had to get it out of his system, desperately. He needed to find out what was going on, he needed—

 

He knew what he needed to do.

 

“You up for round two anytime soon?” It was _the_ logical choice.

 

Hyungwon considered him for a long, long moment. “Say my hands are amazing.”

 

“Your hands are amazing,” said Kihyun without batting an eyelash. And if Hyungwon’s eyebrows dipped minutely, mouth pursed, suspicious, he didn’t comment, setting up the time instead, all business.

 

*

 

Freaking out over his stomach being infested with moths was possibly the worst state to be in when there was a pair of agonizingly full lips sucking in a pattern around his belly button. Unfortunately, Hyungwon noticed something was off, ceased his mouth ministrations (to Kihyun’s crushing disappointment), switched to palming him lazily through his pants (to Kihyun’s budding euphoria), and peered up at him searching for answers in the taut lines of Kihyun’s face (to his horror).

 

“What’s up with you?”

 

Cageyness was key. “What do you mean?”

 

“You’ve been staring at me all day like I grew unicorn horns out of my ears. I thought you were just horny but you haven’t insulted me once, and you’re so quiet my ears hurt. So, what’s up with you?”

 

“Are you serious? You want to _talk_ ? _Now_?” His dick jumped under Hyungwon’s fingers for emphasis as far as the confines of his pants allowed.

 

Hyungwon raised his eyebrows, waiting. He did seem to like talking during sex an awful lot.

 

“You know the thing we have?” Words were failing Kihyun. He had no idea how to shape them to his needs. Hyungwon nodded again. “Well, _I_ don’t. What _is_ the thing we have?”

 

“I would have hoped it would be perfectly clear by now considering I was about to put my mouth around your cock.”

 

Kihyun let out a very faint _fuck_ , then powered on with inhuman strength. “Humour me.”

 

At which point Hyungwon realised he was being serious and rested his chin on his free hand, still propped on the elbows from between Kihyun’s thighs. “I’m under the impression we’re work colleagues with exploitable on-screen chemistry and mostly unresolved off-screen sexual tension who had a one-night handjob-stand.”

 

Kihyun’s heart flung itself off his sternum. He did his best to petrify his face into an illegible mask, but had no way of checking how he was doing.

 

Hyungwon narrowed his eyes. “Why are you looking at me like I ran over your pet hamster?”

 

Kihyun put all of his energy into appearing— if not unbothered, then at least mindless, but Hyungwon’s fingertips of the other hand were still casually grazing over his zipper and it was frying his neural network.

 

“If it’s about the unresolved tension, I’m open to negotiations.”

 

That was something. Kihyun’s heart suddenly realised it had a parachute on, but was still unsure whether plunging to its death wouldn’t be the less painful option.

 

“I—” He grabbed Hyungwon’s hand in an attempt to stop it from driving him up the wall, but ended up, well, holding Hyungwon’s hand, and swallowing down everything it made him feel.

 

Something must have been showing on his face. He was aghast to realise Hyungwon’s eyes were _soft_.

 

“You’re freaking out.” The softness lasted about as long as the sentence, immediately replaced by a grin so devilish Kihyun could feel the hellfire licking at his thighs. “Kihyun, do you have a thing for me?”

 

All he could do was perform an incredibly convincing impromptu impersonation of a scowling fish.

 

Hyungwon pulled himself up the bed, caged Kihyun’s head between his forearms, bowed down, peering from underneath lowered lashes and breathed, “Kihyun,” then repeated in an agonizingly low voice, “Do you have a thing for me?”

 

Again, nothing came out. He realised helplessly he was fucked beyond saving, and decided to wait for the mattress to swallow him down, push through the floorboards and concrete, and spew out to the floor below.

 

Hyungwon’s fingers slid into his hair. “Okay then.” And he dipped down to lock him in a kiss that went on for three centuries.

 

Which was terribly confusing, but yanked Kihyun out of deep waters in no time, headfirst, eyes closed.

 

They had never _kissed_ before. Kihyun only got to know passively the imprint of Hyungwon’s lips from the pulse points on his neck last time, but now — now he had them within reach to slide his own in between, take in the pillow softness, glide the tongue from the tubercle that had haunted him for so long to the corner of his mouth, and at the parting of his lips suck the bottom one in, taking his time, sinking teeth in just a bit before tugging at it painfully slowly and letting go. The rush of it made him light-headed.

 

A hue of a smile coloured his face at the sight of the tilting eyebrows and a barely audible gasp he got in response, but it didn’t have a chance to fully bloom — he had the most impossibly full pair of lips burying back into him with urgency in milliseconds.

 

And sweet celestial beings, they were made of magic.

 

Which, on one level, was a disappointment. From Kihyun’s experience big lips equalled too much spit and sloppiness, but of course Chae Hyungwon had to prove him wrong.

 

Seconds later he discovered what Hyungwon’s tongue tasted like curling around, slipping alongside his own, and any idle musings gave way to memorising with reverence every spatial and sensory aspect of it by heart as he pressed up, clinging to the feeling.

 

So slick, so pliant, so fucking _good—_

 

He gave in, just once, moaning quietly into Hyungwon’s mouth. His hands snaked along slim sides, through the notches of ribs, up to the wing bones, the inconspicuous but broad shoulders, the back of his neck—

 

He slid one down to the small of his back, wrapped his arm tightly around the slender waist and flipped them over.

 

He expected defiance, not a blissed out, shameless _aaah_ crowned with a bitten down lip and eyes so hooded they turned into two black holes, and Kihyun realised — Hyungwon _liked_ it, he let him, he—

 

—licked his lips, twined fingers in Kihyun’s bright pink strands and pulled down to devour him alive. And when he pressed the pads of his fingers to his spine, gliding them all the way from hairline to tailbone, a shiver rippled through Kihyun’s entire body, set his nerve endings on edge, and made him moan so loudly it drowned out a siren of a fire truck passing by under the window.

 

Stars turned, civilisations fell, civilisations rose, and they went on making out on Hyungwon’s mess of a bed. In a parallel universe they never stopped. In this one they had to pull back at some point, holding onto the shreds of sanity.

 

A second filled the space between them, suspended, broken by Hyungwon’s fingers reaching up to frame Kihyun’s face, thumbs smoothing over his massacred lips and temples filled with his heartbeat. The gesture was so gentle Kihyun unwittingly flinched but stayed within its hold.

 

The halo of Hyungwon’s bright hair glowed against the dark sheets. “How do you feel, Kihyun?”

 

The answer came without consulting his still reeling brain, in a voice hardly louder than a breath. “Like my ribcage is going to cave in.”

 

“You _do_ have a thing for me!” He sat up abruptly with Kihyun’s head now squished unceremoniously between his hands, grinning like a maniac. “Do you want to draw circles with your thumb on the back of my hand and stare at the Milky Way together?”

 

Something welled up in Kihyun. “ _Fuck you._ ” He had enough. He pushed Hyungwon away with arguably too much force, mouth twisted, eyes averted, every cell in his body mortified. “ _I can’t_ _stand you_.”

 

“I can’t stand you either.”

 

There was no heat behind the statement, just weariness. It sounded genuine. It sounded like a confession.

 

Kihyun slowly looked back, realisation settling in, voice quiet. “Then why the fuck aren’t you freaking out that I—?”

 

He should have felt victorious now that the tables turned, but of course, nothing was easy with Hyungwon. His face was _serene_. The audacity.

 

“Because I do.”

 

“You do... what?”

 

“I want you to draw circles with your thumb on the back my hand and stare at the Milky Way together.”

 

A whole echelon of celestial beings helped with the ascension of Kihyun’s heart back between his lungs. But he knew better than to have hope. “Are you sick or something?”

 

“What, you thought we _actually_ hated each other all this time?”

 

Kihyun suddenly felt very dumb. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling. “You’re not going to tell me it wasn’t... animosity-fueled.”

 

“It’s called flirting, Kihyun, maybe you’ve heard of it.”

 

“You…” _Oh_. “All this time, you treated it as flirting?”

 

“God, you’re slow.” Hyungwon leaned back on his hands, exasperated. “It was fun, harmless enough, and I considered you too straight for it to go anywhere, so I knew better than to get involved. But you decided some mutual wanking would be a good idea, and things got _interesting_. So of course you had to go and do the illogical thing, which was… nothing. You did nothing. For weeks.”

 

“Hyungwon.” Every one of his nerve endings sizzled. It was too much. “Were you _pining_?”

 

“Please, you’re not that irresistible.”

 

Kihyun felt like a supernova about to happen. He shifted back within Hyungwon’s reach, hovering carefully just centimetres away.

 

“How irresistible am I then?”

 

Hyungwon looked him in the eye for a long moment, then answered in a whisper, “Disgustingly irresistible,” and pulled him in again.

 

In a parallel universe Kihyun actually exploded and created a brand new star.

 

In this one they decided not to leave the bed the next day.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> For the 1000th time, happy birthday!  
> And if it isn't your birthday, have a lovely day.
> 
> Edit: thanks for the enthusiasm in the comments <3


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